


S'mores!

by Solstarin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solstarin/pseuds/Solstarin
Summary: Tony has never had s'mores before. Crazy, right??





	S'mores!

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1!

“God, I could really go for a s’more right now.”

Beside her, in the driver’s seat, Tony snorted. “Where did that come from?”

“A cocktail that tastes like a s’more is not a s’more. And I’ve had nothing to eat over the last week that costed under two hundred dollars. I don’t know how you live like this.”

“Did they really taste like s’mores?”

Y/N shifted deeper into the passenger seat, kicking off her atrociously high shoes and folding her legs up into the chair. “I mean, as close as alcohol can get, I guess. But it just doesn’t get that… smokey, gooey kind of thing that makes a s’more a s’more, you know?”

She peered over at her boyfriend, who nodded noncommittally, staring at the road ahead. “I just need something cheap. It soothes my poor-woman soul.” She didn’t think much of the matter otherwise and turned her eyes back to the taillights of the car ahead of them.

“I don’t get the allure,” Tony commented suddenly.

“Of what?”

“S’mores.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? They’re a camping staple. Nothing pairs with the woods better than a roaring fire and the perfect combination of sticky sugar and crumbly graham cracker. They, like…. they embody wholesome American family fun.”

Tony hummed, but said nothing.

“What kind of American are you?” Y/N continued. “This is borderline sacrilegious. You’re all about loud engines and pyrotechnics, but –” she stopped herself as she noticed his shoulders beginning to shake. A grin fought its way onto his lips, and she narrowed her eyes as it escalated into quiet snickering.

“What’s so funny? Anyone who’s ever had a s’more agrees that they’re the greatest thing ever.”

Between chortles, he answered, “I’ve never had one.”

Y/N was floored. “I’m sorry?”

“I was too busy being a genius to make marshmallow sandwiches, babe,” he laughed. “It’s really not the end of the world.”

She couldn’t live with this development. “JARVIS, turn the car around. Find me a 7-11. I cannot allow this lifestyle to continue. Do you have cash on you? I don’t think they take hundreds.”

“Y/N,” Tony began, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“No. We might have to stop by Target, too, because we need wood. Oh! You know who has wood and cheap fire pits? Walmart! JARVIS, screw 7-11, find me a Walmart!”

There wasn’t even a pause before JARVIS answered her. “There is a Wal-mart approximately five miles North. Take the next left to begin the route.”

Y/N turned to her boyfriend and gently placed her hand on his thigh. “Anthony Edward Stark. If you do not turn left in 600 feet, I will buy my own supplies and use your blueprints as kindling.”

The turn signal clicked on.

~

The only thing Y/N was grateful of 2 a.m. for was that it meant Walmart was basically deserted. Her billionaire boyfriend was only recognized once by a stocker, and the poor kid was so starstruck that he crushed the bag of doritos he was putting away. They were on their way home with a portable fire pit, a box of wood, and all necessary s’more fixings in under twenty minutes and for under forty dollars.

She hardly even waited for the elevator doors to open to the roof before she picked the perfect spot to deposit her supplies and tear open the cardboard fire pit box. Tony followed, wrestling two dining chairs, because Y/N was not going to wait for him to order camping chairs, and because a sofa wasn’t going to make it to the roof.

Her parents had taken her camping more times as a child than she could count, and within a couple minutes she had built a steady fire. She skewered two of the pillowy treats on cooking skewers she dug out from a drawer and handed one decisively to her boyfriend, who had up until this point been watching her with an amused grin.

“Marshmallow roasting is an art,” she informed him. “Put it here, by the coals. Too close to the flames and it’ll go  _up_  in flames. We’re aiming for golden, like a wheaty sunset.”

This busted Tony into laugher, and Y/N found herself laughing along with him. It was really pretty ridiculous, the seriousness she had for this silly fireside treat. It was three in the morning, and they were both wearing designer, sitting on dining chairs in front of a fire pit on the helipad.

Tony picked up the skill with ease, and in no time he had produced a beautifully roasted marshmallow, ready for sandwiching.

“This is the best part,” Y/N commented as she broke a couple squares of chocolate and gestured for Tony to lower his marshmallow stick for completion. “Careful, it’s messy.”

She sat back and watched expectantly. His gaze shifted from the s’more to her face, and she shrugged her shoulders, gesturing for him to continue. “What are you waiting for?”

“What are you staring at me for? Aren’t you going to have one?”

Her marshmallow was ready as well, but she was so caught up in her boyfriend’s first experience that she’d completely forgot about it. “Fine. I’ll make one and then you won’t feel so alone. Crybaby.”

“Cheers,” he said after she’d finished, lifting his s’more to her. She clacked hers against it gently with a broad smile, and took a generous bite. She watched Tony as he processed his, and cheered silently in victory as he polished it off in seconds.

“I told you!” she pronounced at the last bite. “It’s a gift from the sugar gods!”

Tony took one of her hands and brought it close, his signature smirk glittering on his face. “You’re right. It’s the sticky white stuff that does it, I think.”

She giggled, a little unprepared as the innuendo mingled with the lingering alcohol in her head.

“You’ve got it all over,” he rumbled, toying with her fingers, and when they were clean(ish) he drew closer to her face. She laughed again, the sight of him covered in marshmallow goo and trying to be seductive too good to resist.

Still, she let him kiss her, trailing his slack-jawed adornments across her cheeks to her mouth, and abandoned her chair for his lap soon after.

She buried her hands in his hair, knowing he’d have to shower to get the sticky out, but it wasn’t like she didn’t benefit from that.

When they ran out of breath and parted, she settled herself on his hips and thumbed the remainder of the marshmallow fluff off his cheek. “Good?”

His eyes sparkled in the firelight as he grinned at her. “Not sure which is better.”

The fire pit crackled behind her and she shifted a little to tuck her head beneath his chin. She slid her fingers under the hem of his shirt and let her lips brush his collar, keeping the little spark they’d just made glowing.

“What else haven’t you tried?”

A slight pause, as she expected him to lob some kinky scenario at her, then a quiet response. “Froot Loops.”

_“What?!”_


End file.
